If You Be My Baby
by KillerElephants
Summary: Edited re-post. Emma calls Regina up in the middle of the night, drunk and alone. What's the worst that could happen? Swan Queen, Regina Mills, Emma Swan.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Title and lyrics come from Gary Moore's 'If You Be My Baby'.

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If You Be My Baby

Regina groaned at the bleating ring coming from her bedside cabinet. Twisting around beneath her duvet, she pried her eyes open, only to shut them almost immediately afterwards as the bright light from her cell phone attempted to blind her poor eyes. With another groan, she grabbed her phone and just about managed to press the call button with her eyes still shut, falling back onto her mattress. Whoever was on the other end of the line, she hoped, was someone who had a great career - which could easily rip from under them.

"Hello?" she practically barked into the receiver. She considered whoever was calling lucky that her voice was still laden with sleep, and her tone not as harsh as she had intended.

"You know… you're a real _bit_ch…" came the hazy response.

Regina's eyes flew open, frown furrowing her brow. The voice on the other end of the line was instantly recognisable, and the owner of which was quite obviously under the heavy influence of alcohol.

"Excuse me?" Regina croaked, clearing her throat and sighing. Her sleep had been interrupted for nothing.

"I said…" the intoxicated sheriff tried, "I said you're a bitch, a really real bitch!"

Rolling her eyes, Regina ground between her teeth, "Sheriff Swan, I do hope you haven't called me at this hour," she wasn't even aware what time it was, "just to give me your _oh so highly_ valued opinion of myself."

She heard a sigh and what almost sounded like a whine on the other end of the line, and frowned, ready to hang up and discharge Emma in the morning for… well, she was sure to think of a reason by then.

"Why are you so fucking stuck up?" Emma cried, words punctuated with irritation and dripping in her drunken haze. "You're not even all that great, _Ruh-gee-nah_!"

Regina's thumb hovered over the 'decline' button, about to put the phone down, but Emma's next words halted her movement. "I mean, you're pretty hot, I'll give you that, but otherwise you're just… you're just a bitch. A big bitch. The biggest, and I've _lived_ with bitches before, okay? I was raised for, like, a year by the Miss-fucking-Hannigan of all bitches…"

Frowning, Regina blinked and tried to process what Emma had just told her. Had it been her sleep-clouded mind that had misheard her calling her 'hot'? Before she had a chance to inquire or further investigate, however, the voice on the other end of the line was rattling off again.

"I think you just like to see other people miserable, that's it, isn't it? You feed off their misery like a leech. Like a freaking _vampire_ leech."

Blinking slowly, Regina finally said, "Ms. Swan, that's quite enough. I think you need to go to bed."

"You wanna get in my _bed_?" Emma's obnoxious voice cried through the receiver, and Regina inwardly groaned at the misunderstanding, but Emma was speaking again and she sounded greatly annoyed. "My _god_, why do you do that?" she seethed. "Even if you were- were the last person on Earth, I would not let you into my bed."

Emma sounded so indignant Regina almost had to repress a smirk.

"Even with your little skirts," Emma continued to ramble, "and those stupid shirts you shouldn't even be wearing, with your stupid legs and…a-and your…" Emma trailed off and a peculiar noise of irritation carried through to Regina. She frowned, wondering just where Emma was going with this. She was well aware she should have put the phone down minutes ago, but intrigue held her in place, her cell pressed against her ear.

"Even _then_," Emma managed to save, "I wouldn't let you in my bed."

Smirking now, Regina said, almost coyly, "Ms. Swan…anyone would think there was something you were trying to tell me."

"What?" Emma asked dumbly. "No. Because… no."

"Really, sheriff?" And was she lowering her voice into a husky murmur on purpose, or was she just tired? "Because I'd love to hear just _how bad_ you don't want me in your bed right now." Regina couldn't help herself. Emma sounded way out of it, she reasoned, she'd probably never even remember. And if she did, well… it would certainly make things interesting.

"Uh… what?" Emma asked, her breathing easily heard through the receiver. "What did you just say?"

"Pray tell, _Emma_, why have you really called me at…" Regina removed the receiver from her ear and blinked furiously as she fought to read the time through the bright light, "_two twenty_ in the morning?" Her tone significantly hardened as she relayed the time, but a greater part of her than she would care to admit was anticipating a reply.

"To tell you to stop…just stop being a douche," Emma mumbled. From the muffled rubbing noise that blanketed her frustrated sigh, Regina suspected she was rubbing the phone against her head. When she had apparently returned to the phone, Emma asked, "Why are you even…what are you doing?"

Regina blinked. "I was sleeping, Ms. Swan, as many people make a habit of doing at such a late hour." She sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. As interesting as this was, she was still exhausted.

A sudden snort of laughter startled Regina, and she did not expect Emma's sudden burst of, "You know what? I'm coming over."

"You most certainly are not."

"No, no, it'll be cool, I'll bring a ball and a glove - I really wanted to teach Henry how to catch," Emma rambled. "I mean, you don't look like the baseball type - do you even, like, know what it is? - I'd have to teach him. He needs to learn."

"Emma," Regina growled, hearing shuffling on the other end of the line as Emma moved around. "Sit yourself down this instant. You are not coming over to my home at this hour."

Her eyes were wide as she tried to make sense of the shuffling on the other end of the line, and when Emma failed to respond, she almost shouted, but controlled her volume for her sleeping son's sake, "Emma Swan, you had better listen to me - I swear to _god_, if you get in that death trap of a car of yours you will lose your position as sheriff. If you turn up anywhere near my house, I will not be held responsible for my actions."

Emma's laughter was heard down the phone, clear and loud, and Regina had to sit up in bed as her frustration caused her back and shoulders to tense. "Relax, I'm coming, I'm coming - hey, do you want me to bring anything?" she asked, to which Regina released a fuming breath from her nostrils. "I have… what do I have?" The sound of a falling object sounded over the line, followed by Emma's snorted laughter. "Whoops," she laughed, "I have…_honey_! I have honey!"

"Emma," Regina tried, sick of this now. She wanted to be able to go to sleep without having to worry about Emma Swan climbing in through her window - or whatever other ludicrous entrance she would opt for.

"Wha-?" Emma gurgled, mouth clearly full, most likely with honey. Regina had to control her gag reflex.

"Ms. Swan, you will not be leaving your apartment until morning - or, more likely, late afternoon. Am I understood?" Regina asked, considering calling someone - Sidney would do - to keep an eye on Emma for the night and make sure that, if she left her apartment block, she was safely escorted back inside.

"You know what your problem is, Miss. Priss?" Emma asked, mouth clearer than before. "You don't know how to have _fun_."

"I am not having this conversation with you," Regina sighed angrily, leaning back against her headboard.

"No, I think you are," Emma stated, then giggled. "You need to loosen up a bit."

Shaking her head, Regina couldn't stop herself from asking, "Oh, and you'd be willing to show me how?" Her tone was sarcastic but she could not ignore the roll of desire that seeped deep between her legs.

"You _so_ want me," came Emma's response, and Regina had to roll her eyes, able to practically hear the smirk in her words.

"No, sheriff," she sighed, "I _so want you_ to go to sleep, so that I don't have to worry about you turning up on my doorstep within the next few hours."

"_Priss_," Emma snorted. "I think I'm just what you need."

Regina almost guffawed at the idea. "Oh, really?" she asked, words dripping in sarcasm. She tried to overrule the part of her that pressed her cell phone further into her ear.

"Mhm," Emma's voice sounded smug, "you need someone to help you let go…"

Swallowing, Regina ignored the way her heart suddenly began to pick up in pace, and asked, "And just how might you do that?" Her voice was far away, even to her own ears, and she nipped at the flesh on the inside of her lips, wondering just what she was doing.

"Is, er, this gonna turn into phone sex?" Emma's voice drawled over the receiver, and despite its crass, sleep was suddenly the last thing from Regina's mind. "'Cause as much as I would - and…I totally _would_ - I don't think… I don't think I'm in the right…frame of mind." Emma laughed suddenly, a deep rumble of laughter that sounded to emanate from her gut, and the noise lasted longer than the situation deemed appropriate.

Regina sighed again, frowning into the darkness of her bedroom as the laughter finally died down. She couldn't help but ask herself why she had not yet put the phone down and found her way back to sleep, but a little voice at the back of her mind struggled to argue that it was to make sure that Emma would not be visiting her in the early hours of the morning.

Suppressing a yawn, Regina said, "I'm hanging up, Ms. Swan, and I would recommend you go to sleep."

"Aw, don't be such a bore!" Regina frowned at Emma's outcry. "Just stay up and talk to me, _I'm __all alone_," she wailed.

Before Emma could burst into song, Regina could not help but ask, out of her own curiosity as well as wanting to cease the singing before she re-enacted the entire scene from _Shrek_, "I would have thought your _roommate_," she made it sound like an insult, "would have been home?"

"Mary Margaret?" Emma asked, then continued to drawl, "Nah, Maggie's out…she left me. She's such a, what do you call it…?" A brief pause, the phone line rang with static energy. "A dark horse! You know? I mean, you take one look at her and think 'yeah, you're gon' be a crazy cat lady when you're older', but I mean…"

Emma's voice turned into an over-exaggerated whisper. "She doesn't exactly spend her nights _playing scrabble_, if you know what I mean…"

"And… with whom is she not just _playing scrabble_?" Regina found herself asking, a frown marring her brow as she wondered whether or not David had strayed from his wife…again.

"Mary-Maydoll don't kiss an' tell." Emma's tone was almost indignant, if not slightly disappointed. "I bet it's Dr. Whale! _God_, he's such a fuckin' creep…" And she burst into laughter once more.

Sighing, having had enough of their conversation, Regina stated again, "I really am going, Ms. Swan."

"Oh really?" She did not like how sure of herself Emma sounded, and very nearly put the phone down right there…in fact, she furiously questioned herself when she refrained from doing so. "I think you like talkin' to me," Emma continued, "you just…you just won't admit it. 'Cause you think you're better than me." She let out a mock sigh, even in her drunken haze.

"I am better than you, Ms. Swan," Regina told her without hesitation. Emma snorted once more into the receiver.

"Why's that?" she asked.

"I'm not the one drinking alone on a weekday," Regina informed her quietly. "Now, can I be sure that you're not going to appear at my front door any time soon?"

"Aw," Emma whined, "you don't want to see me?"

"_Sheriff_."

"Fine, Priss, keep your panties on… or, rather…" She burst into laughter at her own joke, and managed to choke out, "Hey, Regina, I still have my honey… you know what I wanna do with it?"

Frowning, battling between swiftly putting the phone down or pressing the receiver further into her ear, Regina barely had a chance to purse her lips before Emma was answering her own question.

"I wanna spread it all over your-"

"_Ms. Swan_."

Regina couldn't help herself. Her heart was beating erratically and her thighs clenched around a wanton throb. She had to remind herself just how intoxicated Emma was, and just how much she would not remember their phone call in the morning - or, as previously established, late afternoon.

"Too ina-inappropriate?" Emma asked on a laugh. "You know you want me to lick honey from your-"

"Emma!" Regina cried, suddenly reigning in her voice in the fear that she might disturb Henry. She continued in a quieter, yet just as seething, tone, "This conversation is over. I am putting down the phone." But Emma barely seemed to be listening to her, instead humming - rather out of tune - an unfamiliar song.

"_Na-na-na-naow-naooow, na-na-na-naooow_!" Emma screeched down the phone, perhaps imitating a guitar, and then belted out, "If you be my baby, I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll give you so much lovin', you gotta love me, too!"

With a sigh, Regina rubbed her eyes and, ignoring her body's dull ache, told Emma, "I'm hanging up."

When she realised Emma probably hadn't heard her, and was continuing to sing to the ridiculous song she could not put a name to, Regina did just that. She stared down, incredulously, at the little device in her hands. Had that really just happened?

Her frown remained, though whether because of the peculiar phone call or her sudden plunge into sexual frustration, Regina couldn't determine. She dropped her cell phone back on her bedside cabinet and threw herself down onto her pillow, wrapping an arm beneath it and pulling it into her head. As she found herself slowly seeping into a light sleep, Regina could not fathom the sudden want to hear her mobile device buzzing once again…


	2. Need Your Love So Bad

A/N: The sequel to _If You Be My Baby_ – with a somewhat drastic shift in tone. In keeping with the Gary Moore theme, I would definitely recommend a listen to his version of 'Need Your Love So Bad'.

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Need Your Love So Bad

"Really, Ms. Swan, you mustn't make a habit of calling me whilst inebriated."

It was the second time in almost a month, the first 02:20a.m call having riled Regina up and led her down a disorientating path of Sheriff-Swan-related dreams. They had not talked about the call save for a dropped comment the morning after, when Regina had happened upon the other woman whilst she was patrolling Main Street, sporting dark circles beneath her eyes and a frown that appeared not to lift - though perhaps that was just with Regina's presence.

Emma had groaned a response, told Regina she had work to do, and so she had finally relented when she thought to have significantly worsened Emma's headache. It was the least she could do, after being awoken so abruptly the night before.

Though she had also discovered that Emma appeared not to remember all of what she had said. If her panic stricken expression was anything to go by, she was still trying to bang a memory into view. If she had remembered since, she had not said anything; not that Regina was expecting her to, mind.

But here, again, at - and she had checked before answering this time - 03:14a.m, Regina wasn't sure her frown was wholly at having her sleep interrupted again by the infuriating birth mother of her son - _poor boy_ - or because her skin had tingled with more than just frustration upon coming to the conclusion that Emma Swan was calling her in the middle of the night. Again.

The slurred greeting - "_I'm alone. Talk to me_." - had all but sent a shiver of excitement down her spine, and Regina found herself at a disadvantage; her current tiredness made beating that damn reaction down to anything resembling resent impossible.

"Will you just…talk?" Emma asked, and, this time, Regina welcomed the emotion her monotone question had evoked; disappointment.

There was no cheer in her voice, no cheek, and Regina was sure this conversation was going to be one she wished she had skipped. But putting the phone down now was out of the question. Something was clearly wrong, and Regina - damn curiosity - wanted to know what. If that meant a tired start to the day tomorrow, then so be it. That's what coffee was for.

"You sound upset," she began, voice lacking even a modicum of concern, "what's wrong?"

She didn't care what was wrong, Regina told herself, not really. This was just… interesting. If anything, she wanted to know more about the woman who had birthed her son. How better to learn more than from the horse's mouth? It was important she knew how this woman ticked, Regina conceded, waiting for a reply in anticipation.

A groan rumbled through the receiver for longer than Regina had expected Emma capable of holding her breath. She almost thought her to be dying on the other end of the line. Her brow creased at that thought, wondering with morbid curiosity if - if Emma was dying - the knowledge of her being on the phone to her, hearing it all, while the life was slowly leaving her body, would mess her up any more than she already was. She blinked the thought away as the groan ended, and the voice that told her 'you'll never know' almost sounded disappointed when Emma next spoke.

"No, I said _you_ talk. You talk."

She sounded defeated, Regina thought, and tightly wound. Perhaps she wasn't such a happy - horny - drunk, as had been first surmised.

Either way, the hardening of Regina's tone came naturally as she questioned, "Do I need to remind you that it is _you_ who has called me up at such an ungodly hour - again, might I add? You're hardly in the position to be making demands, Ms. Swan."

A sigh was heard from the other end of the line, a muttered curse that Regina wasn't overly sure she was supposed to hear, and then Emma's voice returned to the receiver. "You know what? Doesn't matter. I won't bother you again, bye."

The unrelenting beep that signalled a dead line had Regina frowning with confusion. Had Emma Swan just hung up on her? After battling through the outrage, appal, and offence, she found herself left with concern and intrigue. She could only wonder what had happened that was so awful that it had sent the usually determined - infuriatingly so - Sheriff into a pit of despair. And just _why_ had the woman called _her_ in the first place?

Annoyed with Emma for leaving her so curious, Regina did not hesitate to call back her number and waited with shallow breath for her to answer.

"Regina?" Emma's voice was thick with confusion, and Regina could already imagine the comical expression gripping her features. "What… what are you…?"

Rolling her eyes, Regina began, "Something is clearly upsetting you, and I intend to find out what. I won't have you doing something stupid in the night, only for me to have to find a replacement Sheriff in the morning."

On the other end of the line, Regina took Emma's silence as an invitation to continue. "I suggest you refrain from drinking any more, and perhaps wake that schoolteacher roommate of yours up." _Or, better yet_, Regina thought, _let her find you in the morning, lying in a pool of your own cold vomit_.

A click of irritation could be heard over the line, followed by, "Oh, fuck you." Her tone significantly lost its venom as Emma added, "I'm not suicidal. Nothing to worry about."

"I wasn't worried," Regina thought to supply, without missing a beat.

"Then what _are_ you doin', Madame Mayor?"

Pursing her lips, Regina let out a silent breath before answering. _What am I doing?_ "I am Mayor of Storybrooke, Ms. Swan. If I can prevent a _tragedy_ from happening, I will."

A pause as Emma, no doubt, attempted to understand her implication. And then a sigh of annoyance. "I'm not fucking suicidal, damnit."

A smirk threatened Regina's lips. _Such indignation…_ "You don't have to convince me of your mental state, dear, it'll be up to the good doctors to commit you."

A sigh sounded over the phone but, bar that, there was no response. Regina was most disappointed by this change, and the smile fell from her lips in agitation; Emma was always amusing to rile up, especially while drunk, she had discovered, and now she was having a difficult time ignoring the concern that prickled over the edge of some ragged cavity deep within her chest. _What could have possibly broken you, Emma?_

"Look," and her voice was laden with effort and alcohol, "I don't know why I called… I'm sorry, I'll go, I just-"

"What's happened?"

Regina internally berated herself for sounding so soft. She didn't care, she reminded herself, she _didn't care_. There was a long pause, in which, if not for the dial tone, she might have believed the line to have been put down on her. But Emma remained on the other end of the phone conversation; she could hear her breathing, thinking. Just when Regina thought about giving up - she knew a lost cause when she saw one - Emma finally spoke.

"Nothing." She cleared her throat, most likely realising just how close to tears she sounded, and continued. "Nothing's happened. Just… nothing." Another sigh. Regina pushed herself up into a sitting position, leaning back against the headboard of her queen-sized bed

She supposed the direct approach wasn't working, though seeing as she had little common ground with Emma - and she refused to place Henry between them - Regina was stumped as to what to say. Which is why she was most thankful when Emma, drunk and loose-lipped, began to speak.

"Henry's so lucky to have you…"

It was nought but a soft whisper, so quiet Regina had to strain, forcing her cell into her ear, to hear the end of it, and even then she thought she might have been mistaken. She wanted to ask what Emma meant, what thoughts lingered behind the statement, but even as her mouth was opening she knew it'd be best to allow Emma to speak on her own terms. Which, to Regina's unwitting relief, she did.

"Sometimes, it's like that fairytale shit has completely just…taken over inside his head… you know?" A roll of guilt, easily ignored, but Regina needed to make no noise of agreement for Emma to continue. "He's so… he just doesn't under_stand_."

A sniff over the phone had Regina wondering if Emma was about to cry on her, and she cringed back into the headboard, but when Emma next spoke, her voice was lacking tears. "I gave him up for a reason, and… I don't regret that. You've been, just… so good to him." A pause, filled with Regina's bewilderment. "Better than I could've been."

The self-pitying had Regina silently wincing, lips curled back in a snarl, but she refrained from lashing out. She almost congratulated herself on sounding close to supportive when she reassured, "Henry has had the best start to life that I could ever have hoped for…" She swallowed back her pride and willed out the remaining, "…because of what you did for him."

"So, we agree?" Emma was quick to ask, the line feeling more static than ever between them.

Regina's frown was most begrudging as she answered, truthfully, "I suppose, yes."

There was a relieved breath that almost seemed to carry through the phone, in through one of Regina's ears, cooling her mind with the peculiar thoughts of being on the same side as Emma, and back out the other. Her frown did not relent at this new, curious stalemate she found herself locked in over the phone.

Finally, when the silence risked invading Emma's hazed mind, she broke their unwitting peace. "I don't believe in fate or destiny or…whatever," she began, and Regina found a small victory in the fact that she didn't mock the woman for her _astounding_ way with words. "But Henry was supposed to be with you, you know?"

Sparing a glance around her darkened bedroom, Regina humoured the other woman with a soft 'mm' as she wondered why the hell she was awake gone three in the morning, and listening to the drunken ramblings of a woman she didn't even like.

Emma, accepting Regina's grunt of acknowledgement as nothing other than captivated interest, went on. "You're good with kids, Regina. You're good with Henry." She was rambling now, Regina thought, the disappointment returning. Either Emma hadn't drank enough or she'd had too much, but whatever was upsetting her was clearly dampening her mood. She wasn't so sure she liked this new side of her.

"Yes, Ms. Swan," she finally interrupted her, unable to listen to Emma's incessant appraisals of Henry's upbringing, "I agree. But it's getting _late_." She hoped the hint was enough, though even as she said it, she wondered why she hadn't been more direct. Surely, she wasn't hoping to spare the woman's feelings in this?

"I know," Emma agreed, to Regina's dissatisfaction completely missing her implications, "it's so dark outside. Isn't it _dark_?"

Regina rolled her eyes. The alcohol was still affecting her, then. _Oh, joy_. "Yes, Ms. Swan. It's dark."

Her eyes once again perused her bedroom, feeling so barren in the sepulchral glaze of darkness. If not for the dim light protruding through the closed curtains, her mind might have imagined herself in some damask dungeon. As the image overtook her imagination, Regina almost thought she felt the heavy weight of metal around her wrists, and the distinct, stale dampness in the air. She shivered once and pulled the duvet that bit further up her body, fingers rubbing against the exotic fabric in the hopes of alleviating the sudden racing of her heart. The next statement came from so far out of the blue that the navy tints were surely teetering over the abyss of blackness. Regina wondered if it had come from the night itself.

"You must have had a good example. You're so good with Henry. You know what he needs, the food, the clothes, like… you must have had someone like that…" Emma sounded almost desperate, though the emotion in her voice was not parallel with her words.

Another tinge of guilt threatened Regina's chest, but she held the unwanted feeling at bay. _No. They did this to her, not me_. And, as much as her bed was begging for her to slip back inside, and the shadows engulfing her were threatening to suffocate her back to sleep, Regina found herself answering with a familiar acid lacing her tone.

"I didn't need an example to know how to raise a child into a decent human being."

She wasn't sure if she wanted Emma to feel her sting, but the second the other woman responded, she knew she hadn't, anyway.

"But there must have been some example. I never had that." _And so the self-pitying goes on…_ "I could have raised him right, if I had that." Though even she sounded dubious.

Regina sported a hard jaw, mouth aching from the hold. Anger simmered deep within her gut, threatening to rise like bile and unleash a torrent of hurtful insults at the person unlucky enough to be within earshot at that moment. She held it down, the indignation from Emma's words tasting bitter on her tongue. She wasn't sure why she rose to the bait, after so long of holding the cracks together, but something about allowing her parents to take credit for her beautiful little boy did not sit at all well with her.

"You didn't need an example, Ms. Swan, and neither did _I._"

Regina stopped herself there, unwilling to reveal too much, some hidden secret, perhaps, that would tip the board in Emma's favour and result in her stealing away with her son in the dead of the night. Not that she'd be stupid enough to try.

There was a long pause, in which Regina was sure she could hear whispers of each thought that whirled within Emma's brain. And then, finally, "What was it like?"

Regina's lips parted in question, and then closed again. She'd gone too far; let too much slip. Suddenly, the thought of her indulging Emma in the woeful tales of her upbringing had her mind staining with distaste. The memories came naturally, she was sure, and they were not easy to rid herself of. And then she suddenly wondered, if anyone else were to begin to understand how she had struggled from a babe to a troubled adolescent, it was the woman on the other end of the line.

The revelation sent a wave of shock over her petrified limbs and Regina wondered if they had been hiding from each other from the beginning. Feeling like this new world was entirely too small for her liking, Regina finally replied, "I'm sure you're already aware, Ms. Swan." Her voice lacked the presence she hoped to maintain, and she wondered, if only for a second, if the intoxicated woman on the other end of the line was going to mock her for this new discovery.

"The beatings." The sound of recognition and clear remembrance in Emma's tone brought another shiver to Regina's stationary body. "Neglect."

"_Please, mother!" Regina cried out, again. _

_Cora was smiling - actually smiling - and Regina reminded herself not to cry harder at the sight. Her eyes, instead, flew to her father. He stood, eyes wild, a hand raised with all the good intention in the world, and yet as she watched him, seconds ticking by, the binds growing tighter around her lungs, he did nothing. _

_She wondered why he watched, if he wasn't going to try; or if every single time this happened, he willed himself to grab her mother and force the magic from her veins, believed he could do it, even, but the stark reality would keep those raised, twitching fingers at bay. _

A sharp breath almost choked Regina as she clawed her way out of the memory. The silence on the other end of the line had her suspecting that Emma was in a similar state.

"…it never really stops, does it?"

Regina was unsure as to what Emma was referring to; the abuse, the torture. Finally, she settled on the pain. That's what remained, still, even after all those years. The sleepless nights. The irrational fear. The longing for a second chance. All of it, holed inside that space in her chest, waiting for a release that she could not grant it.

"No. No, it doesn't."

The voice that next carried over the line, muffled from distance and sleep was, ironically (to say who it belonged to), a most welcome distraction from the conversation at hand.

"_Emma?_"

Mary Margaret sounded tired, Regina thought, and she heard a closing door behind her that told her the she was making her way towards Emma - wherever she was. It appeared Emma wasn't as alone as she had first stated; though Regina had doubted that she meant it in the literal sense from the start.

"_Are you okay_?"

Her presumption, then, was proven correct; Mary Margaret's voice sounded much closer now.

"Yeah," but the thickness of Emma's voice told otherwise, "I'm fine. Sorry I woke you."

Regina waited through the pause, the muffled reassurances, the endless questions from her once-step-daughter. She was not surprised that Mary Margaret had not asked about who was on the other end of the line; she wouldn't want to be kept from bed any longer, either. _Usually_. But she did not sound overly pleased with Emma's inebriated state.

Eventually, Emma told her, "…I'll go outside. Go back to bed."

Twenty seconds later - not that she had been counting - Regina heard the sounds of a shutting door. Boots landed heavily, drowsily, over stairs. Emma was descending. Regina thought against asking her where she was going, though she allowed herself to wonder. In her mind, followed by the sound of the second closing door, she entertained a clear picture of Emma Swan pacing back and forth, dressed in a hideous jacket and equally ridiculous hat, chomping at the cold outside air.

Emma did not talk for a long time. Regina wondered, distractedly, as she carefully slid down the headboard and landed in a lazy lounge against soft pillows, if their conversation had reached its end. Though even as the idea settled within her mind, she did not put the phone down.

She could hear uneven footsteps, though was sure that the cold night air would soon sober Emma up, and the sounds of rough breathing. The phone was still pressed against Emma's ear, then. She must be a peculiar sight, Regina mused, stumbling down the sidewalk, having a silent conversation with, for all anyone knew, an inanimate object.

"_Shit__!_" came the pained wince that finally broke the silence.

Regina had heard the crack of what she assumed to be a stubbed toe, followed by Emma's streaming outburst of an impressive number of expletives - many of which she wasn't sure she had ever actually heard in person before. The footsteps had stopped, and a tired sigh carried across the line.

Regina could practically feel the cold air unwinding from her cell phone, and, in her mind's eye, she pictured Emma alone on a dark street, staring around her as if in wonder of how she had ended up there. After a short pause, in which Emma's breathing evened out from her brisk walking, a question was posed.

"What time is it?"

And, with the flow of conversation, Emma continued to walk, as though the stimulation by her ear was what was keeping her moving. Regina guessed that the question was directed at her, and responded, putting much less effort into keeping the coldness from her tone this time.

"Too late for meaningless phone calls, I believe."

"Right…" Emma almost sounded guilty. The cold air, it seemed, was doing the trick in gradually sobering her. "Sorry for, uh… waking you up." A sheepish shuffle was heard, and then a heavy breath, as though Emma was projecting her lung-warmed air back into the night in the hopes of seeing her breath billow like steam.

Regina frowned a little. _Yes, you should be sorry_, she thought to herself, flexing her shoulders as her slouched posture began to take an uncomfortable toll on her back. "Not to worry," she told Emma, "there's not much I enjoy better than playing agony aunt at half three in the morning."

But even as the words left her mouth, she wasn't so sure she did regret this phone call. She felt scarred from it, no doubt, but regretted it? Strangely, not so much. But she'd worry about that later. Preferably, after a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

"Hey, if you didn't wanna talk," Emma retorted, "you could'a put the phone down ages ago." She was moving, Regina detected, at a slower pace than before.

"And have people find your phone records and see that we had spoken directly after you had drunk yourself to death?" Regina scoffed, the jibe sounding almost playful from her sleepy lips. "I don't think so."

Emma snorted in the way that Regina had come to understand only happened while drunk. "Yeah, 'cause there's enough animosity between you and this town already, isn't there?" The playful slur carried from her tone and, despite bringing the twitch of a smirk to Regina's lips, the almost 'friendly' ground they were now covering confused her.

"Thin ice, _Swan_," and if there was a smile to her words, then damn, it was down to exhaustion.

A breathy chuckle carried through the receiver, and stopped just as Regina heard her steady footfalls cease. There was a tense pause, one that had the smile falling from Regina's lips, her shoulders squaring as she waited for an expected blow.

"Come to your window."

Regina blinked, head jutting back against her pillows, and frowned as she gazed around to where her heavy drapes were keeping her window from view. Her mouth fell slack, and she thought to tell the woman on the other end of the line that she had best not be outside her house at this hour, but even as the words flew through her mind, she knew that Emma was here. Of course she was here. And her only surprise came with being prepared for the impromptu visit.

Her twisted blankets suddenly seemed heavier than normal as she fought her way from beneath their suffocating grasp and hurried towards the window. First, she threw back the curtains, and her eyes fell to the ground directly beneath her. Nothing. The silence over the phone held her confusion as her eyes swam blindly, wondering what the hell Emma Swan was up to, now, but as those dark irises rose to the street, she caught sight of a hunched figure.

She was standing, swaying slightly from foot to foot, with one hand pressed against her ear, the other shoved deep into a coat pocket. Regina heard each breath and footstep as Emma moved forward, their eyes locked, across the street. She was overly careful, in her tipsy state, with the garden gate, making sure no high-pitched whine was emitted.

When she stopped, Regina heard the question in her expectant, green gaze even without the words having been uttered. Her frown remained as she glanced down at the now stationary woman on her garden path, and she was most surprised to find that the '_go home, get away_' that lingered on her tongue was suddenly far too heavy for her to get out.

With a sigh, Regina dropped the tenseness from her shoulders and spoke softly into the receiver, overly cautious now of waking Henry. "I'll be down in a minute."

Emma nodded from below, and then Regina watched her drop the phone from her ear, disengaging the line. Stepping away from her window, she pulled the curtains to a close once again and went in search for a robe. The thin satin seemed inappropriate, she thought, but she shrugged it on over her skimpy nightdress, anyway. Her cell was tossed, forgotten, on her large bed and, within moments, she was scaling the stairs, suddenly hyperaware of what was happening and who it was exactly that was visiting her house so early in the morning.

Holding her breath, Regina grabbed her set of keys and slotted the appropriate one in the lock, giving a twist and pulling on the handle until the door opened to reveal the wan face of Storybrooke's Sheriff. And what a sight she was.

Dressed in an oversized fleeced water-proof jacket, and a hat that left only a rounded section of her face on show, nose red and blonde waves spilling out from beneath it, Emma Swan looked just as confused as to why she had arrived here, on the mayor's doorstep, as Regina herself.

For a short moment, time paused. Regina regarded Emma with wide, tired eyes and it was, finally, a repressed yawn that had her speaking. "Come in… I'll put the coffee on." Her voice was soft and Emma, even in her drunken haze, quickly caught on. Henry was still sleeping upstairs. Not trusting her volume, she merely gave a nod and waited for Regina to step out of the way before entering.

The large, mayoral manor, with its white washed walls and impending grace, closed in around her. The heat from her parka absorbed her discomfort, and it was with a dejected sigh that she removed it - and her hat - so as to make breathing a little more accessible.

After locking the door, Regina padded warily into her kitchen, trusting the other woman to follow. Doors were closed on instinct behind Emma, who was still cautious of waking Henry; she didn't want him disturbed by their - currently lacking – conversation, or the boiling of the coffee pot. If not for his tiredness the next morning, then because Emma wasn't overly sure how she would explain her being at his home in the dead of the night.

Regina seemed to notice Emma's actions, gazing curiously over one shoulder after the shutting of the kitchen door, and she drew her robe tighter around her - feeling uncomfortably under-dressed - as she made her way toward the coffee machine.

Emma dumped her coat and hat over the end of the breakfast table and, without invitation, took a seat. The walk had left her tired, but the alcohol streaming through her bloodstream had kept at bay any aches in her legs that she might have felt from the unplanned exertion. She watched Regina, elbows on the table top and head supported in both palms, as she made them both a hot beverage in near silence, but for the electrical appliance. Emma spared a glance up to the ceiling, high above her head. She heard no disturbances from upstairs and so, when the coffee maker signalled that the brew was near completion, she concluded that her visit would remain between her and Regina.

"Thanks," she finally sighed, grateful for the steaming cup that was handed to her from across the breakfast table. Regina nodded in response and, her own boiling coffee held between two palms and a hooked thumb through the handle, she took a seat opposite the woman before her.

Silence filled the kitchen, save for the few cautionary hisses of breath as each woman blew their drinks in the hopes of cooling the dark liquid inside, and the occasional sips, often followed by a bitter wince as the scorching coffee scolded their throats and came to a rest, hot and settled, at the base of their stomachs.

Emma was thankful to find that the coffee was doing its job. Her grasp on reality was becoming more resolute, prominent, and she anchored herself within her seat as she slowly drained her mug.

When her coffee had reached the halfway mark inside her cup, Regina's eyes lifted to peruse Emma's face. She considered, for a moment, as she nursed her heated mug between both palms, asking Emma what she was doing here, but beneath the bright light of her kitchen, Regina now suddenly understood that they had both been seeking comfort for far too many years. And now, finally, she wondered if they might have found it…

Green eyes met with brown on instinct, feeling their penetrating gaze from across the breakfast table, and Emma's eyebrows gave a soft raise as she realised that Regina had been watching her. There was change in the air. And _longing_.

Emma wracked her mind as she watched Regina place down her coffee cup with a definitive air, and then slipped from her stool. She searched for an ounce of surprise and, upon finding none, wondered if this was why she had come to the great mayoral manor in the first place. Had she already known?

When Regina came to silent halt before her, Emma placed her coffee cup silently upon the table and twisted in her seat to watch her, waiting. Regina's throat shifted with a swallow as one hand, previously hung empty by her side, was raised. Emma watched the trembling fingers for a long moment before she slipped her hand inside their warm embrace, holding infinite trust in their care.

Regina stepped backwards, their clasped hands falling limp in the clear space between them, before she gently tugged the other woman from her seat. Emma slid to the floor with a grace she could only occasionally find within herself and, as Regina turned and began to lead her towards the closed door, she felt relief swarm her chest like cool, frothy waves climbing a beach.

With the light receding from each switch Regina flicked off from room to room, she led Emma through her home, up the stairs, and towards the slightly ajar door that opened into her bedroom. Her hand clasped the other woman's cool limb tighter, now, and she felt only relief when Emma squeezed back.

Even in the mayoral mansion's paradox of sepulchral softness, when Regina turned towards Emma, the bedroom door having closed with a soft _thud_ behind them, she felt the tension leave her body like all the tiny, live wires inside of her had suddenly been earthed.

She felt as though she was seeing Emma Swan for the first time, that night. Her eyes watered at the sight.


End file.
